


Shag Me

by ornithia



Series: Now You're Thinking with Portals [1]
Category: Transformers: Armada, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornithia/pseuds/ornithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'dirty' drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shag Me

**Author's Note:**

> TFP/Armada crossover

When Knock Out arrived, he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight sprawled before him. There, in the field, lay Jetfire, with his limbs stretched out across the terrain. A sheepish glint marked the shuttle's optics as the medic approached; with each step he took over the uneven ground, his hips swayed in a tantalizing display. Red optics scanned the handsome flier, taking in his form with an appreciative glance and genuine curiosity. Such magnificent wings …  
  
"… You know, when you comm’d for my ‘services’, I didn’t expect to find you with your … _ahem-_ “  
  
A finger is pointed, idly gesturing, and a lewd grin spreads out across a white faceplate. A hearty chuckle is the response.  
  
"I thought you were an expert? Or maybe I'm just too _big_ …”  
  
The medic merely shakes his helm, ignoring the teasing remarks. He steps closer, tracing his hand across the nearest over-sized thigh; his heady gaze is devious.  
  
"Mmm, but of course; haven’t I _already_ told you that your size would present no problems? Look, I even brought a few special ... well, I’m sure you’ll _appreciate_ my gifts, once I get to use them on you. Now, if you’d just allow me to _mount_ you, we can get _started_ …”  
  
When he receives an approving nod, Knock Out lifts a leg, ready to climb the larger mech. But before he can so much as lay a foot on him, however, a large hand trails up his thighs, brushing against a hip and ever-so slightly comes to rest upon his aft. It soon trails up, coming to settle just below his chassis, where it teases his seams. The medic chides his ‘patient’ for going off-task.  
  
"We do this _my_ way - you _filthy flier.”_  
  
There was a _lot_ of surface area to work with. Without further ado, the medic steps atop the shuttle, pulls a buffer from his subspace, and begins the tedious task of restoring Jetfire's ruined finish to pristine condition.


End file.
